You're Thickening the Air I Breathe
by alien09
Summary: The next time Puck meets Rachel after high school, it's been a year since she's lost the man she loves. A story of how the heart heals co-starring Mike and Matt, along with the rest of the Gleeks.
1. Chapter 1

Puck really doesn't want to be here, he thinks. It isn't that he's so desperate for women that he'd _need _this in the first place. He's pretty sure the redhead who'd just given him her number could attest to the fact that he was _still _a bona fide stud. But as much as it pained him to admit it, Quinn had been right.

'Look Puckerman. You're practically thirty. Your mother is expecting grandchildren. So quit being such a slut and let me fix you up with someone who _actually _has a brain,' the now Mrs Quinn Hudson had sat him down last week, hands on her hips.

'I'm not "practically thirty" and the _fuck _have you been talking to my mother for?' Puck demands because _seriously_? He doesn't need Quinn and his mother teaming up and doing the whole Thelma and Louise shit. His heart can't take it.

'You're almost _twenty-four _Puck. Finn, tell him you agree with me,' Quinn tells her husband and his best friend (though now Puck wonders where his _true _allegiance lies) nods all sage like.

'Dude, you made my wife a teenage mother. The least you can do is this one little thing. Besides, she might not be ugly.'

How fucked up is it that the three of them can now joke about shit like that? After Quinn had had to give the baby up to some upper middle-class Martha Stewart clan from Columbus, Finn and him had looked at each other with tears in their eyes. Puck thinks that is when the road to recovery really begins. Because the three of them actually _gets _why nothing will ever be the same, and they figure it's one for all and all for one right?

Puck stands outside the small restaurant Quinn had told him to go to. The nightlife in New York filters in the background and Puck shoves his hands into his pockets, tugging at the tie that Quinn had made him wear. She'd made Finn drive all the way from their brownstone on the outskirts of the city and up to his apartment in SoHo. Being a songwriter in high demand had its benefits. The spacious two-bedroom he'd picked up for a sweet deal was home and Puck thanked the good Lord he'd listened to his mother and hit the books. She was right. Having a college degree from Ohio State helped in the real world.

(But like _hell _was he ever going to let her know that)

His phone buzzed and Puck rolled his eyes.

'Q, leave me alone,' he bites out the minute he hits send.

'Are you there yet? Because I texted her and she told me you aren't,' she scolds. This was the girl he'd almost considered marrying. Puck shuddered.

'Jeez woman I'm just outside. Now stop harassing me. Go fuck your husband like he wants you too.'

Quinn calls him a jackass and hangs up. Puck saunters up to the guy behind some pedestal thing and tells him he's here under Fabray.

(Under Fabray. Huh)

The man nods and tells him his date is already here and Puck decides he won't bother to correct him, just says okay and shuffles towards the table he was pointed towards. It's located somewhere in the back and Puck can only see the back of her head. It's nice, he decides. She's wearing this silky blouse and her hair falls to just at her chin. The neck cleavage he's getting is above average.

_Shit, what was he supposed to say? You're hot, want to have my kids?_

Puck straightens his posture and tugs at the tie, which is beginning to feel like a noose. For all he knew this broad could be fugly because Quinn had said she'd picked someone with a nice personality. Puck was more of a love em and leave em kind of guy, and truth be told he was too busy with his work to care that they didn't offer much outside the bedroom. His mother called it a poor excuse, his sister called him an imbecile and Finn just shakes his head like his eldest child has disappointed him.

Her fingers are playing with the ends of a napkin and Puck sees that they are nice and long enough to have at it at a piano. Puck sucks in a breath and decides to just suck it up. He quickly slips his phone out and puts it on vibrate, with an alarm set to go off in an hour. Perfect escape clause.

'Hey,' he says and the woman goes still. Her head is bowed down and Puck doesn't know whether she should shake her hand or something. What _did _you do on a blind date?

But then she lifts her head and Puck doesn't know whether to laugh or groan.

'_Noah_?'

Because fuck if Rachel Berry isn't sitting there, staring up at him with her mouth open.

'Rachel Berry,' he says her name all incredulous because seriously, what were the chances? And how the hell did Quinn know her? And how had they kept their secret handshake friendship discrete? And how had Finn managed not to blurt it out?

(Puck decided that Finn was actually dumb enough not to know. He loved the guy like a brother but sometimes there was no denying fact)

'Noah Puckerman,' she mimics him and Puck takes a moment as he's sliding into his seat to take her in. He hasn't seen Rachel since she'd left Lima six years ago, when she'd announced to the rest of the Gleeks that _of course _she would remember the little people when she was this big Broadway star. The rest of them had scattered and Puck honestly didn't even consider the fact that Berry was _this _close to him, to the three of them actually when he took in Finn and Quinn. But then, he hadn't really realized Broadway was kind of a major thing around here until he'd moved here.

'So you're friends with Quinn huh?' He asks her, leaning back in his chair. She sways her head and her hair, cut into choppy layers, follows the movement. It frames her face nicely and draws attention to her big doe eyes. The red lipstick she has on does incredible things to her already full lips. She looks older, like she'd seen and done things since graduation. Puck considers that he probably looks different too, what with his mohawk gone and him in this Barney Stinson-esque suit.

'We made an effort to keep in touch yes,' Rachel answers.

'And Finn?'

'They send me joint e-mails. It's cheesy but then again, I'd expect nothing less from the both of them,' she tells him with a smile and he wonders when she'd gotten over Finn. Maybe after she found out that Finn had decided to stay by Quinn despite the fact the baby was his.

'Really? They never said anything,' he mumbles as he combs through his head to see if Finn or Quinn had said something about Berry.

'Well we were merely acquaintances during high school Noah. I did enquire about your welfare of course, since I knew you had moved here with the both of them.'

'Did you move here after graduation?'

She nods her head, slanting it sideways. 'Julliard was calling. Kurt and Mercedes are here as well. As are Mike and Matt.'

'Yeah, I know about Chang and Rutherford,' Puck says, recalling the _Street Fighter _marathon the three of them and Finn had had last weekend. 'You been to their dance studio?' He questions, remembering how close Rachel had been with the two jocks.

'I was there recently. I must say its impressive the way they've managed to incorporate so many dance styles under one-'

'How come I've never seen you around?' He presses her because fucking hell, was there some kind of conspiracy going on keeping him from Rachel? Sure she said they were acquaintances or whatever, but it seemed like she'd bothered to keep in touch with everyone but him.

Puck thinks he's offended.

'Oh,' she says really softly and shifts her eyes away from him. 'Well, I was out of town a lot. Doing shows.'

It sounds lame but Puck doesn't push her because she's gnawing on her bottom lip and playing with the thin silver chain around her neck. He recognizes when someone doesn't want to talk about something. Heck, Puck was pretty sure he'd perfected that technique.

'So how's life Noah?' She means it, he can tell, because she leans forward as her hand falls away from the chain. He wonders what's hiding underneath her top (mind out of gutter) and why that necklace means so much to her.

'Well I'm a song writer,' he admits and usually this is the part where the girl swoons and Puck smirks. Chicks dig that he's into his sensitive feminine side or whatever.

'Good. Your talent was always vastly underrated. I'm glad that you've put that potential to good use,' she replies and Puck stares at her because she'd said it without any hesitation. As if she didn't think Puck was going to end up in Lima. He probably looks like a fool gaping but Rachel continues speaking, either pretending not to notice or simply not noticing at all.

'Do you enjoy it?' She appears genuinely curious and Puck feels himself relax.

Because it turns out he kinda wants to be here.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel didn't think she was going to enjoy herself. Quinn had insisted that she go, saying that the friend she had was _definitely _worth it. So Rachel had gone along on this merry little charade, perfectly content to utilize the acting skills she had honed over the years.

But Noah Puckerman had turned out to be a complete revelation. Sure there was the excessive use of profanity and cocky arrogance that had always followed him around in Lima. But this time there was also self-assurance and Rachel contemplates why she hadn't actually kept in contact with Puck. It wasn't any sort of conscious decision, she thinks. It was just that life had swept her up, and suddenly she was this whole other person, and high school just seemed so yesterday.

But then she had bumped into Kurt and the domino effect had just _happened_. She hadn't been lying when she had told Puck that travelling had kept her busy. Amongst other things, of course. Her fingers automatically reach for the chain around her neck. The morning sun is filtering through the blinds in the spare room Mike and Matt had graciously offered her.

(Rachel remembers the absolute Cheerio fit Quinn had thrown when she found out where Rachel was staying. But being cooped up in a house with Mr and Mrs Hudson wasn't going to help her pull herself out of this…funk)

There is a muffled _thump _and Rachel shakes her head in amusement when she hears Mike chastise Matt.

'Dude, she's sleeping!'

'Do you think Puck's in there with her?' Matt whispers back (loudly).

Rachel smiles when she hears Mike's affronted tone. 'She's _classy_ man. Don't disrespect.'

Their voices trail away and Rachel turns away from the sun, pulling her necklace and grasping the rings that clink together. Something presses down against her and Rachel wishes that she can just lie there with these two round pieces of metal, hold on to them for dear life. But she'd come back to New York because she needed to move on. Not wanted, _needed_.

She doesn't think she can bear this horrible sadness that is slowly sucking the life out of her.

Rachel finger combs her hair and grabs her toiletries bag, opening her door quietly and padding softly towards the bathroom. She wrinkles her nose slightly when she sees how…_messy _the bathroom is. Quickly brushing her teeth and splashing some water onto her face, Rachel marches out to Mike and Matt.

'Hey Elle!' Mike chirps up and Matt hands her a cup of black coffee. Her hands shake slightly as she receives it because that was the way he'd taken it, but Rachel solves her dilemma by gently telling them both that she doesn't drink the beverage.

'What?' Matt looks at her like she's an alien.

'Could you please point me in the direction of your cleaning supplies?' She asks them both instead, watching as Mike's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and Matt blinks.

'You're kind of our guest,' Matt tells her slowly. Rachel gives them both a shrewd look.

'Your bathroom isn't fit for human occupation.'

'It's next to the washing machine,' Mike tells her, as if a switch has been flipped inside his head. 'We're just going to head over to work so we'll see you later?'

'Of course,' she assures them. She puts on the rubber gloves and fills the pale with water, splashing some disinfectant and watches the bubbles form a thin layer of foam over the surface. This is how she spends the next few hours, scrubbing and mopping every square inch of the bathroom until she can actually see her reflection on the floor.

She traces a finger against that reflection, seeing the woman for what she is. Trying to fix herself, trying to fix everything around her. The doorbell shatters the spell and Rachel glances at the clock hanging above the coffee machine, seeing that it is almost noon. Her clothes are a mess and her hair is matted with sweat. But Mike and Matt have seen her at her worst so she doesn't see any problem with opening the door in her tank top and boxer shorts.

Noah stares at her across the threshold and Rachel feels her eyes widen in surprise.

'_Berry?_' He asks and she realizes that she hadn't let on about where she was staying. Noah peers around her shoulder, as if expecting Mike or Matt to pop out of nowhere.

'Oh hello Noah,' she greets him as if he were an old friend. Which he was she tells herself, though the bond between them has always been tenuous at best.

'Are you…you're fucking staying _here_?' One eyebrow is raised when he says this. Rachel resists the urge to twist her fingers together as if she is guilty of something she isn't.

'The boys were gracious enough to extend their hospitality yes,' she replies and gives in and tugs at the hem of her tank top. The cotton is slightly damp. 'Though they're both not home at the moment. I'm just about to meet them for lunch if you're interested in waiting.'

She has no idea why she extends the invitation. But Noah shrugs his broad shoulders.

'You aren't going to take like two hours to get ready are you?' There is a wary tone buried inside his question. Rachel shakes her head.

'I'm not going on stage,' she promises. 'I'll be half an hour. I need to take a shower,' she explains already heading towards her room. She cleans up the detergents and cleaning supplies and returns them to their place before taking a quick shower. For some reason she is aware of Noah's presence in the house and it unsettles her. Throwing her leotard into a bag, Rachel shrugs on a worn sweatshirt that is a few sizes too big for her small frame over a pair of jeans. She finds it odd that Noah doesn't ask her a thing about the sweatshirt when she can see the question in his eyes. He waits as she locks the door behind her (how long has she been staying here if she's got a _key_?) and nonchanlantly lifts the small duffle she's placed by her feet.

'Don't make a big deal out of it,' Puck mumbles under his breath to her and Rachel grins. It seems that Puck still tries to keep his sweet side hidden away like some kind of taboo.

'So how long have you been crashing with Tweedledum and Tweedledee?' Noah wonders out loud as he opens the door to his Range Rover for her. Matt and Mike's studio is only a few blocks away but Rachel decides to just get in the car.

'Just a week or two,' she tells him. 'It was a spur of the moment decision really.' She wants to distract him. 'Any luck with that new song?'

She can tell that Puck knows what she's trying to do. He flicks on the indicator and filters into traffic, decides to humour her.

'Still stuck in the same fucking rut as before,' Puck says and he wonders what its been about Rachel Berry that makes it so easy to talk to her. During the one week they were together she didn't shut the hell up, Puck muses, but whenever he said something she made sure to give him her undivided attention. It was a rare quality that Puck hadn't encountered much in his adult life.

'Well it helps if you don't think about it too much,' Rachel informs him, her lips curling into a smile as she remembers how Jeremy had dragged her along with his camera, his voice enthusiastic as he rambled on about the story the sunset could tell.

'Do you do that before a show or something?' Puck's question makes her realize that she isn't staring out the deck of the Eiffel Tower. She scratches her neck and feels the chain, something like peace dislodging the lump in her throat.

'Of course not. My routine ensures that I am one hundred percent prepared for my sojourn on stage Noah. I'm simply relaying advice that I have received from other sources.'

'Did you do any plays in New York?'

'There was an off Broadway production once I got out of Julliard but the majority of my work has been largely in London, with a few other places scattered in between,' she doesn't say it to rub it in his face. It is a matter of fact and Rachel has worked too hard to let some misguided jealously make her feel ashamed of what she has achieved.

'So you planning to do something here?' There is a pattern to his questions, Rachel can discern.

Rachel shakes her head, seeing the glass windows of Complex Rhythm fill the windscreen. Mike and Matt had worked as background dancers before finally pooling their resources together and setting up a studio dedicated to the craft they loved. Their clientele largely consisted of students who wanted to dance professionally, but they also accommodated those who just wanted to have fun. It was a small but thriving studio that Rachel thought could prove a perfect distraction.

'I'm planning to do something, yes,' Rachel says as Puck parks the car, grabbing her duffle as he gets out. She's out of the car before he can open the door for her and Rachel gives him a half-smile as he smirks. It is then that something occurs to her.

'Why do you need to see Michael and Matthew?' Her brow furrows.

Before he can answer Mike is slamming through the front door, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun.

'Hey man. Nice timing. And you brought Elle!' Mike grabs her hand as she says this.

'Elle?' Puck mutters.

'You guys came together?' Mike asks.

'I thought you guys were at home so I swung by there first. Saw Berry and she hitched a ride,' Puck retorts casually but Mike gives him forced smiles.

'Oh. Yeah. We forgot to mention that we had a house bunny.'

'I _sincerely _hope that there is simply a joke Michael,' Rachel warns. Puck wants to laugh when she sees Mike flinch.

'I meant that in a completely non-sexist way.'

Puck snorts.

'I'm just going to drop this off in my office,' Rachel tells them both, gently prying her duffle from Puck's grip. Their fingers brush and there is something electric that startles her. It makes Rachel hurry her pace, shaking her head and blaming it on her lack of sleep.

'Berry has an office here?' She can hear Puck demand before his voice fades away.

'Remember how we said we needed another vocal coach for the singing thing?' Mike claps Puck on the back after he says this, sending a wide grin in the direction Rachel had departed.

'You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me,' is all Puck can manage.


	3. Chapter 3

Puck doesn't know what to do around this new Rachel Berry.

Back in high school he'd evolved in his efforts to deal with her crazy. First it was the slushies, then the making out, before he'd simply reverted back to practiced indifference. He'd made the snide remarks when she'd hauled their asses over the coals before Regionals, and smiled alongside her when their lifted that trophy while those Vocal Adrenaline douches and their curly-haired leader pouted in the wings. Puck didn't miss the smug look on Berry's face as she'd paraded the big ass trophy in front of Jesse St James and Puck had watched as the asshole had bowed out with his tail between his legs. Back then she'd been all determination, high energy and crazy all wrapped into one. The sheer intensity of her _want _was enough to make Puck run for cover.

But this woman standing in front of him, with her short hair and slightly leaner face, was almost freakishly _calm_. Sure there was still her natural inclination to use ten words instead of just one, how she still sometimes placed her hands on her hips when she was launching into one of her lectures, and how she could still probably recite by heart anyone who had won a Tony the past fifteen years. And yet Puck couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that _this _was Rachel Berry.

'Noah, are you even listening to me?' She asks him, sounding exasperated and fisting on of her tiny hands onto her hip. Crap. He figured that he may as well be honest otherwise she'd rip him a new one.

'Man Berry, what the fuck happened to you? You're, like, all normal and shit. It's freaking me the fuck out.'

Rachel gives him this wry grin and simply heaves out a big sigh. '_Life _happened Noah. You can hardly expect me to remain the same considering the fact that anthropologically speaking, human beings are extremely receptive towards the various-'

'I didn't ask for the Discovery Channel version, thanks.'

Rachel tilts her head to the side before shaking it. 'Mike and Matt _really _didn't inform you that I was going to co-direct the Glee club here at the studio.'

'It isn't a Glee club Berry,' he thinks he should correct her before she becomes too emotionally invested in the kids or something. 'They're _paying _us to help them sing and play better.'

'I think any talent we manage to unearth should be nurtured Noah,' she scolds him as if the entire capitalistic enterprise their vocal lessons are based on is _his _evil idea.

'Look Berry,' Noah says, running a hand through his shaved head. 'I'm going to give my all to these kids because they _deserve _it. Tell me the minute they start giving us bullshit and treat this as some kind of alternative teenage hook up joint, you're going to be there with me and lay down the law.'

'_Honestly _Noah, there is still enough crazy in here to manage that,' she says with a smile and Puck can't decide whether he wants to laugh or not. He settles with giving her a smirk.

'So how come you gave up the stage for this? Aren't you supposed to still be in your prime or whatever?' He asks suddenly because it just occurs to him that Broadway was supposed to be Berry's bitch, or at least that had been the plan before graduation.

Rachel's lips press together and she tenses, so slightly that if Puck hadn't been watching for her reaction he would have missed it altogether. 'Well, not that its any of your business-' _Ouch_. '- but I've decided to take a sabbatical.'

'Okay then,' he answers and wanders over towards her desk. Berry is pulling shit out of her duffle and arranging them on the wooden surface and a frame black and white of Rachel, with the wind blowing strands of hair against her face with a wide smile, catches his eye. Puck isn't a huge fan of photography but he can tell whoever took this knew his shit. The way the light caught against her cheekbones and dipped into her eyes made the subject enthralling in the sense that you _wanted _to know what made her so happy.

'Nice picture,' he comments, gesturing towards the frame. Rachel looks down and there is a fond smile that tugs at her lips.

'Thank you. It's one of my favourites,' she says and Puck can't ignore the sadness lingering behind there. It is then that Puck realizes he doesn't know if Berry's attached or not. Someone with a body like that and a heart as wide as a house shouldn't have any trouble scoring, Puck thinks. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she's with anyone, seeing anyone, but then he stops because it might make him look _too _curious.

'Someone I…he loved taking pictures. It used to drive me insane that he'd carry his camera around with him _everywhere_,' she chuckles before stopping abruptly, flicking her eyes up towards Puck and fiddling with the paperweights shaped like stars with her fingers.

Puck notices how she used past tense but doesn't say anything.

'I'm going to go check in with Mike and Matt about when we start classes. I figure we can meet up later or something to work out our lesson plans or whatever,' Puck scratches the back of his head because Rachel is giving him this completely incredulous look. He knows she wants to sputter incoherently at this new, mature Puck 2.0 but instead she simply nods.

'That sounds acceptable.'

'I may as well swing by their place and we can just go from there or something.'

'Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner?'

'What're you ordering?'

She seems appalled by the suggestion. 'I refuse to order some overpriced, unhealthy substitute when I am more than perfectly capable of cooking Noah. Is this how the three of you sustain yourselves?'

'It's _New York _Berry,' he tells her as if that is explanation enough. 'But hey, you want to rock the barefoot in the kitchen thing I'm not going to say no.'

She mumbles something in response to his sexist remark that he can't hear. 'Be there at eight.'

'Catch ya Berry,' he salutes her loosely before wandering off towards Mike's office, glancing over his shoulder and seeing Berry toy with that necklace around her neck as she stare at the picture he had pointed out.

'Oh good. You're still alive,' Mike breathes out a sigh of relief through his nose. Puck can hear Matt correcting someone's step around the corner.

'Please. Like Berry'd deprive the world of _this_,' Puck waved a hand down his frame. Mike faked gagging.

'So you two are okay right? Because Elle needed a job and let's face it, if there's anyone who can whip your voice into shape-'

'The fuck does she need a job for?' Puck interrupts. 'Actually, why the hell is she staying with you two schmucks instead of with Quinn?'

Mike actually looks serious when he answers. 'Rachel wanted to crash with us okay. Kurt and Mercedes aren't getting back from Australia till later this week and she didn't want to stay with Quinn and Finn.'

'That didn't answer jack shit.'

'Look,' Mike darts his eyes around Puck to make sure there isn't anyone there. 'Rachel's had a tough year. And I know you've got questions. But if Rachel wants to tell you, she'll tell you. Until then quit hassling her okay?'

'Whatever,' Puck feels a bit hurt that everyone knows what happened to Berry except him. 'When do you need us to start this vocal thing?'

'Two months maybe? Gives us enough time to accept applications and go through the audition process.'

'_Audition process_?'

'Yeah, Elle said she didn't want people thinking this was some kind of joy ride. She takes this just as seriously as you man.'

'Dude, you realize you just signed off on _Berry _going all Simon Cowell on these kids right?'

'Don't worry Puck, I won't tell anyone you're Paula,' Mike sniggers. Puck flips him the finger.

'I'm coming over for dinner. So make sure there's beer.'

'Wait _what_?'

But Puck was already on his way out, his eyes lingering on the other end of the corridor. He could hear faint humming coming from Rachel's office.

Decision made he headed towards his Range Rover, deciding that he had enough time to see Quinn before dinner tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: to all 161 one of you who alerted this story. Thank you. Now please review =)**

Rachel hums under her breath, dropping the sheets of pasta into the boiling water. The roux is already done and she gives it a brief stir so that it doesn't stick to the pan. Mike and Matt are watching a football game, and she smiles when she hears Mike curse out the referee. It's nice, she thinks, being able to make something with her hands. She'd never particularly liked cooking until she'd had to fend for herself. Rachel wasn't one of those cooks who could make things up on a whim. Jeremy had often laughed out loud when she'd slavishly followed whatever recipe she'd found, joking that she should redirect some of that talent into other skill sets.

(It didn't ever stop him from enjoying the meal)

The doorbell rings and Rachel wipes her hand on the dishtowel, calling over her shoulder for one of the boys to get that. There is the sound of Puck saying something before Matt ambles into the kitchen, depositing a six pack of beer onto what little space she has left clear.

'Hello Noah,' she greets him pleasantly, noticing that he is still wearing the same clothes from earlier today.

'Something smells good,' Puck comments, shrugging out of his suit jacket. It is hard to ignore the way that his body moves under the thin fabric of his shirt and Rachel swallows, remembering the way her hand had sparked when she had taken her duffle.

'Be patient Matthew,' Rachel smacks Matt's hand away as he attempts to pluck one of the mushrooms from a bowl. Matt rubs his hands and rolls his eyes.

'The game's on. Trust me, it's better if you let her rule and not interfere with her reign,' Matt tells Puck seriously while Rachel frowns.

'Be grateful I'm feeding you,' is all she can says before turning her back on both men. A second later and she can feel the heat from Puck's body behind her, his breath tickling the side of her neck as he peers down into the pot.

'Pasta?'

Rachel promptly elbows him in the side, hears him grunt in pain and then move away just like she wants him too. He was standing too close, she realizes as she grips the wooden spoon tighter, poking the lasagna sheets to see if they were done. They seem a bit hard and Rachel bites her lip, deciding there is enough time for her to start assembling the rest of the ingredients.

'No need to fucking assault me Berry,' Puck grumbles and Rachel almost jumps out of her skin. She presses a hand to her chest and flashes him an irritated look.

'Why are you still here?' It comes out curt and Rachel immediately wants to take it back, because Puck is squinting at her suddenly, studying her like some kind of science experiment that he's trying to figure out.

'You know I stopped by to see Quinn just now,' he starts and there is no disguising the fact that Rachel visibly stiffens. She relaxes her shoulders just as quickly though.

'How is she? I've been meaning to stop by and see them. Perhaps I'll do so tomorrow,' Rachel wonders out loud, dumping the mushrooms into the tomato sauce and folding them in along with the minced meat. When Puck doesn't respond Rachel glances up to see him frowning, hands braced against the edge of the counter with his head leaning forward.

'I think its really fucking amazing that you've managed to stick your nose into everyone's business but mine,' Puck tells her softly, attempting to be curious.

'I didn't _stick _my nose into anything,' Rachel shoots back, lifting a sheet of pasta out and seeing that it was done. Flicking off the gas, she lifts the pot and struggles with it a bit. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Puck reach for the handle but she quells him with a glare. 'I'm _fine _thank you.'

'Ah _there's _the Berry I know,' he chuckles wryly.

'You didn't know me at all Noah,' she gripes back. Puck lifts his shoulders.

'We hooked up didn't we?'

'Yes. Clandestine meetings and you never listening to a word I said.'

'I sang _Sweet Caroline_,' he points out as if that's important. Rachel feels herself soften at the memory and when she starts layering the meat, roux and pasta into the rectangular pan, she heaves out a sigh.

'Admittedly one of the highlights of my high school career,' she murmurs and Puck is still there, within touching distance. There is a moment of silence as she assembles the lasagna and pops it into the oven, setting the timer.

'What happened?' She can hear the frustration lacing his words and her heart starts to beat harder, faster. It's beating so much that she feels short of breath as he pushes on, running a hand over his shaved head. He had done that during school too, she recalls, whenever he was angry or annoyed at something or someone. Puck shapes his fingers into a circle to demonstrate his next point.

'It's like there's this circle of trust and I'm standing _way _over here.'

'It isn't-'

'Jesus Berry, what did you not get a part in a play or something? Did it end your Broadway career and by extension your life?' He mocks.

'I'm going to let that slide because you don't know what you're talking about,' Rachel keeps her voice low, not wanting to draw Mike and Matt's attention.

'I thought that Quinn, the _mother _of my fucking _child_, would at least show some love for her baby daddy. But fuck no. It's like the freakin' Vagina Monologues. And you've got the Three Musketeers keeping their trap shut as well,' he's raising his voice and Rachel flinches because there is no way that either of her friends have missed that.

'Why is it so important that you _know_?' She demands and flings her hands up in the air. This gives Puck pause and Rachel watches as his brow knots in the middle, as if the thought had never occurred to him before.

'Hell if I know okay? But I think that if we're going to be working together, you could at least be honest-'

The anger floods through her before she can get a hold of it. Her fingernails dig into the palm of her hands and she meets Puck's stare head on.

_How dare he? How _dare _he?_

It is all that is running through her mind and Rachel resists the urge to stomp her feet.

'Errr…' Mike stutters out but Rachel barely acknowledges his presence, instead thinning her eyes and giving Puck a half-baked sneer. It's faintly malicious but she isn't ready to discuss what's happened, least of all to this…_hoodlum _standing in front of her.

'Yes _Puck_,' she grinds out, inching a step forward. 'We _work _together. And while we do have history in the sense that we were casual acquaintances during high school, that doesn't entitle you in the least to have me divulge something I clearly have no wish to discuss.'

'Oh but _their _worth your time?' Puck flings a finger towards Mike and Matt, who finally seem to realize what is going on.

'Puck, man, drop it,' Matt warns.

'Fuck no. Berry's got something to say,' Puck retorts and folds his arm across his chest.

'Seriously dude,' Mike manages to get in and there must have been something in his tone because Puck raises an eyebrow.

Something inside her was just screaming to wipe that smug look plastered all over his face.

'I'm here,' Rachel breathes out the words and for some reason the air inside the kitchen goes taunt. 'I'm here because the man I loved is _dead_.'

It doesn't make the world implode, saying the words out loud. But there is something seizing inside her chest. Puck looks shocked though, as if that is the last thing he had been expecting to hear. Mike and Matt are looking at her warily, as if she might collapse into a heap on the floor.

She doesn't bother with a reply. Pushing past the three males rather forcefully, she takes a large measure of satisfaction. It's almost an exact reenactment of the patented storm outs she had perfected during Glee club, right down to the righteous indignation.

But that quickly fades away when she settles into the darkness of her room, pulling the rings out and clenching them tightly.

'The man I love is dead,' she whispers again.

It's final and open-ended, and Rachel just wishes that it had never happened to her.


	5. Chapter 5

Puck stands in the kitchen, his mouth flapping open because he just cannot believe what the fuck has just happened. Of all the things he'd expected Berry to say, _that _had been the absolute last fucking thing _ever_.

Mike and Matt are glaring at him though and Puck can't exactly blame them for being so pissed. They'd told him to back the hell off but Puck had kept pushing her, knowing that sooner or later Berry would snap and just _tell him already._

Recalling the conversation he'd had with Quinn, maybe this was what she'd been hinting at.

'**Fabray, **_**what the hell**_**?' Puck storms into the house when Quinn opens the door. Finn's over at the NYU coaching his Varsity team and Quinn's by herself sketching out some ideas for Kurt and Mercedes.**

'**Hello Puck. It's nice to see you too,' Quinn says dryly, softly closing the door behind him.**

'**Rachel Berry is now my fucking **_**colleague **_**over at the studio. And this is **_**after **_**I find out she's the chick you set me up with. Oh, and did I mention that she's staying with the Dynamic Duo? Huh? **_**Huh**_**?'**

'**Well, I see that you're taking this rather well.'**

'**This isn't the time to be cute **_**Fabray**_**,' Puck throws his hands up in the air, thinking that he probably looks like Berry did when she was having one of her diva fits during glee. 'I want to know why the hell **_**everyone's **_**been on Berry's Christmas list but me.'**

'**You're Jewish,' she points out and Puck scowls, flopping down onto the couch and running a hand down his face.**

'**It's just…why the hell has Rachel kept in touch with **_**everyone **_**but me?' It comes out kind of whiny, Puck thinks, and Quinn raises an eyebrow. She folds her arms across her chest and looks down her nose at him, as if wondering whether he deserves to know the truth or not.**

'**Look, contrary to what you might think, this isn't some big conspiracy against you,' Quinn finally tells him, places herself primly next to him on the sofa. 'She ran into Kurt one day at his store and it all just kind of…happened. I didn't think you'd particularly care, considering that you don't even ask about her at all.'**

**This kind of pisses Puck off. 'Just because I don't ask about Berry doesn't mean I don't care what she's doing with her life.'**

'**You barely tolerated her during high school.'**

'**So did you.'**

**Quinn gives him a smile. 'After you and Finn graduated, everything was different. She was still Rachel but she kept saying how if I ever needed anything, she was there. And then the next thing I know she was a friend.'**

'**Yeah. She's kind of like a gnat.'**

**Quinn glares at him, presses her lips together. **

'**What?' Puck asks weakly. Quinn shakes her head before biting her lip.**

'**Well can you at least tell me what Chang meant about her having a tough year?'**

**Quinn looks like she already knows the answer to this before she speaks. 'That's Rachel's decision. Not mine.'**

'**No conspiracy my fine ass,' Puck mutters under his breath.**

'**Seriously Puckerman, **_**don't **_**even think about hounding her about it. Let Rachel tell you in her own time.'**

'**Whatever.'**

'Man, _seriously_?' Matt's talking and Puck shakes his head, seeing the disapproving look plastered all over Rutherford's face.

'I didn't know okay?' Puck tries to defend himself but even he knows how weak that sounds in the face of what Rachel's just told him.

'I warned you, _politely_, about how you needed to get your head out of your ass and let this weird fixation thing go,' Mike scowls at him and Puck clenches his fist.

'Look, I'll just go apologize to her,' Puck tells them both, already stepping towards the narrow hallway where the guest room is. He should have expected the two bodies already placed in his way.

'Not now,' Matt says softly and even goes so far as to place a hand on Puck's shoulder, like he needs to physically hold Puck in place. Puck feels his brow furrow, fixes his gaze towards the dimly lit hallway, wondering if Rachel's in her room crying her eyes out right now.

His chest feels tight and his stomach twists, and not in a good way.

Finally he sighs, tired and repentant, and shrugs Matt's hold off him.

'When did it happen?' Puck asks and continues when he sees Mike and Matt share a look. 'Look, she's already told me. So just…_how long_?'

'A year,' Mike admits reluctantly after a few beats. Puck turns that number over in his head. One year. Three hundred and sixty five days. Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. God knew how many minutes.

'A year,' he repeats to himself, not knowing how to take this new piece of information.

'Yeah,' Matt breathes out, as if remembering how Rachel was like when she had called them asking for a place to stay. There was a thread of desperation woven together with a keen note of melancholy and Matt had wanted to reach over the phone and give her a hug or something, because Rachel wasn't ever supposed to sound so _small_.

'Shit,' Puck curses.

'I agree. You _are _a jackass,' Mike comments.

'Shut up Chang,' the retort is half-hearted and Puck chances one final look towards Rachel's room before grabbing his jacket. His fingers clutch the material as he speaks.

'Tell Berry I'm sorry okay?'

'You can tell her that yourself,' Matt's tone is stern and Puck glances up, meets his eye.

'Yeah, I will,' Puck answers and Mike nods in some twisted kind of approval. The oven beeps and all three men hold their breath, as if expecting Rachel to come barreling through and clucking her tongue over the lasagna.

'Enjoy ladies,' Puck tells them as he pulls on his suit jacket.

'You sure you don't want any?' Matt asks. Puck shakes his head, not feeling at all hungry anymore. He does snag a beer on his way out though, raising a hand in goodbye as he sees himself out of the apartment.

Puck's on the sidewalk beside his car when he allows himself to look up to where he knows Berry's window is. The light isn't on and this makes him feel worse, the grip on the can of beer tightening so much that he leaves a small dent behind.

He starts the car and wonders what kind of man managed to leave that kind of mark over Rachel Berry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Follow me – www(dot)alien09(dot)tumblr(dot)com**

**Enjoy.**

Rachel spends the rest of the night trying to do anything but think. She remembers hearing the oven beep, the sound of the door closing, muffled voices. It doesn't really register as she stares out the window, ignoring the slight sucking sound she thinks her chest is making.

She does recall Puck staring up at her dark window, his face too small to make out what he's thinking. His car starts and then he drives away, far away from her and this sadness she thinks he must now realize is always hovering around her like a storm cloud in those cartoons she had watched as a child.

Rachel doesn't know whether she's angrier or just…she doesn't know how she feels about Puck pushing her, just _pushing _her, to finally admit out loud what everyone's been afraid to ask her about. She concedes that he probably didn't think that she would have dropped something like _that _on him.

In the end she ignores the tentative knock on her door, ignores the rumbling of her stomach as she scrolls through her Ipod and pops in a earbud. Soon the dulcet tones of Dan Mason and the rest of the team fill her ears. Jeremy had adored this podcast and maybe this was her way of keeping him close to her, a small gesture that brings her comfort. She eventually finds sleep hearing Jon Carter lament about Arsenal's lack of depth, one hand fisted into her pillow.

The next morning Rachel leaves the room when she knows Mike and Matt have left for work. She cracks open the door slowly, darts her eyes back and forth and holds her breath. There isn't a sound so she treks towards the kitchen, opens the fridge to see a healthy portion of last night's dinner still in the pan.

_Puck must have left without eating. _

Rachel closes the fridge and opens the freezer, grabbing the tub of sweet corn ice-cream she had managed to procure from a local Asian grocer. It was another small gesture, much like the podcast. Digging her spoon into the dessert, she slumps down into the couch and flicks on the television. She finds a repeat of _Never Been Kissed _and decides that she's going to watch some other woman find her prince. There was no reason for someone else not to be happy after all.

Drew Barrymore is just about to confess her true identity when the doorbell rings. The decent sized tub of ice-cream is almost half consumed. Rachel licks the spoon and doesn't know whether to get the door or not. It was probably Puck. The person at the door is leaning against the buzzer now and Rachel thinks that Puck is probably just as stubborn as she is. Dropping the spoon into the plastic container, she peers through the peephole and is surprised to see the last person she expected on the other side.

'Quinn?' Rachel takes in the blonde, her eyes wide. Quinn, on her part, brushes by Rachel breezily.

'You look like someone ran you over,' her friend remarks casually. Rachel sighs and closes the door.

'What are you doing here?' Rachel gets right to the point. Quinn regards her warily, as if she is a second away from loosing control of her composure. She's probably right. Rachel feels like her nerves have been stretched taunt and right now, she's just waiting for the ends to fray and unravel.

'I can't visit an old friend?'

'You heard about last night then,' Rachel tells her and Quinn's shoulders slump a tiny bit. The former Cheerio taps her fingers against the wooden island before answering.

'Puck called me at some ridiculous hour, slurring his words,' Quinn admits. 'I managed to get the gist.'

'Are you here to make sure I'm alright?' Rachel doesn't mean the slight bite to her words but Quinn seems affronted.

'I am actually. Is that such a hard thing to believe?'

'No,' Rachel breathes out, feeling tired. She looks up into Quinn's blue eyes and offers her a smile. 'I apologize. I'm just a little…' She trails off and her friend closes the distance between them, places a soft hand on Rachel's shoulder.

'Do you want to talk about it?'

Rachel's first instinct is to say no. She was just _sick _of people telling her that it was okay for her to pour her feelings out. It was cathartic, they'd say, it'll make you feel better. Rachel had never liked discussing her feelings much, her _real _feelings. She had no trouble making her opinion heard on anything music-related as her friends from Glee could attest. But while before in her early years she had spoke without a filter, Rachel had slowly reined in the tendency to spill her guts as Mike had often eloquently put it. Jeremy had commented once when they had first met, when they were both in that initial phase of friendship progressing into something more, that she was the kind of person that expected others to share themselves with her without reciprocating.

'Rach?' Quinn prompts and Rachel feels her control slipping. Mike and Matt were such _guys _but Quinn was here now, all feminine and maternal, and Rachel could feel her eyes starting to burn.

'I just…I don't know what to _do _Quinn,' she says and suddenly it's like a gate has been opened. The words come pouring out and the tears are finally letting themselves spill over onto her cheeks. 'He was supposed to be _it_. And it was just so _easy _with Jeremy. I felt at peace, like I'd finally found the person who _fit_.'

Quinn was guiding her towards the sofa, smoothing her hand down the length of her spine.

'We talked about getting married on the beach. Just a small thing, you know? Friends and family. He tried to persuade me that wearing his favourite pajamas was acceptable. And I told him I didn't care what he wore, so long as he was there with me.'

'Oh sweetie,' Quinn whispers and Rachel presses the palms of her hands into her eyes.

'Our first boy was going to be named Nathaniel. And if we had a girl she was going to be called Isabella. But I said that I would hyphenate my surname. Jeremy offered to take mine,' Rachel says wetly and there is a hitch in her breath as she laughs. Her breathing becomes heavier and now there is a tightening in her chest. This doesn't feel like before and Rachel sucks in air frantically, her stomach roiling around.

'Rachel? _Rachel_!' Quinn is yelling at her and Rachel wants to reply but can't. Her body feels numb and there is a sense of panic flooding through her veins. For some reason Quinn is asking her if she's alright and Rachel wonders why.

Vaguely she hears someone knocking at the door. Quinn flickers out of her vision and then comes back into her line of sight with a man.

'Shit. What the fuck is wrong with her?' A gruff voice demands.

'I have no idea. She was talking and then she started breathing and shaking,' Quinn tells him and Rachel wants to ask who this person is.

Warm, calloused fingers grip her arms and Rachel finds herself looking into a pair of hazel eyes. There are flecks of green interspersed throughout. For a moment everything slides out of focus and then she is looking into a pair of dark brown eyes with that familiar twinkle on the side.

'Remy?' She asks and hears Quinn gasp.

'When she'd start breathing funny?' The man asks. Rachel doesn't hear Quinn's answer, trying to decipher why Jeremy sounds so…_rough_.

'Berry. I need you to breathe for me okay? Slowly,' the man's voice was gentle and low. 'It'll make you feel better.'

The squeezing in her chest loosens and Rachel deems this stranger trustworthy, even if he isn't Jeremy.

'Now breathe in for about six seconds and then hold your breath for the same amount of time. Can you do that for me? That's it. That's my girl,' he coaxes and Rachel finds herself following what he tells her to do. She can feel her head start to feel heady and suddenly everything clicks back into focus. Rachel blinks and finds Puck crouched down in front of her, the dress slacks Quinn has on behind his shoulder.

'Better?'

'Puck?' She questions and the strained smile he gives her gives her pause.

'Yeah, it's me.'

'Good,' Rachel is able to get out before the black that hovers at the edge of her vision sweeps over. She doesn't manage to tell him to catch her, to make sure she doesn't fall.

Puck does so anyway and Rachel isn't awake to see the tender way he shifts her in his arms, brushes the hair out of her face.

But that's okay because Quinn does.


	7. Chapter 7

Puck twiddles his thumbs outside in the waiting room, Quinn beside him. She's flipping through a magazine, looking up every once in a while towards the room where Rachel's currently in.

Rachel had come to in the car, her eyes looking a bit lost. Puck had felt his fingers tighten around the steering wheel as Quinn had fluttered around Rachel nervously, not sure what to do. Rachel had asked where they were going, immediately telling them to take her to her GP when Puck had told her the hospital. Quinn had protested but Berry had been pretty fucking insistent, leaning her head against the window and mentioning out loud that someone needed to call Mike and Matt.

'What the fuck is taking so long?' Puck mutters to himself, running a hand through his shaved head. Quinn glances at him out of the corner of her eye. Puck notices that she's been unusually silent; almost cautious in the way she's been treating Rachel. Puck had tried asking what was up, but had been brushed aside curtly. There is the sound of footsteps and Puck lifts his head to see Matt still in his sweatpants and wifebeater. He's got a red hoodie draped over his shoulders.

'Where is she?' Matt demands and Puck doesn't miss the glare that Rutherford sends his way. Puck immediately goes on the defensive.

'Screw you. Quinn did it,' Puck pointed at the blonde, who stiffens and folds her arms.

'I didn't do _anything_ Puckerman. She was just talking and then she just…' Quinn trails off and Puck feels slightly guilty, because he can remember the fear and the confusion that he'd felt seeing Rachel look like she was drowning on the couch. Matt sighs and collapses down into the seat next to Puck, telling both of them that it isn't anyone's fault. The three of them sit there and the clock that hangs on the wall to the right slowly starts to drive Puck insane.

The sound of the door opening makes Puck climb to his feet and Rachel walks out, looks startled to see them there. Her eyes flit nervously from Quinn to Puck before settling on Matt, and Puck takes in the way that her shoulders seem to loosen slightly.

'Matthew,' she breathes out and Puck tries to ignore the way his stomach twists slightly when Rutherford walks over and takes her hand in his. The doctor seems to know Matt, this smokin' hot Eurasian chick Puck would totally have been checking out if he wasn't so concerned about Rachel.

'She's fine,' the doctor announces to them and Rachel huddles into Matt's side, chewing on her lower lip. Puck squints at the stitching on the woman's coat and sees _Angela _neatly printed in block letters.

'Thank you Angela,' Rachel says and her voice is unusually quiet, almost tired. Angela gives Rachel an affectionate squeeze on her shoulder, her demeanor slightly more somber.

'Just take what I said under consideration alright Sweetie? I know it's hard but you've a pair of brass ones on you.'

Puck's sure Angela meant to be quiet but he hears her words anyway, swings his gaze over towards Rachel who nods her head. Matt thanks Angela and the doctor kind of blushes, which finally seems to break Berry out of whatever stupor she's in. Matt jumps and Puck thinks Rachel squeezes his side. Puck has his hands in his pockets, looks awkwardly at Quinn who looks like she's about to cry.

'You sure you're okay?' Puck finally asks once Angela's disappeared. Rachel's fiddling with the hem of Matt's hoodie, rolls the red material methodically between her thumb and forefinger.

'I'm sure Puck,' she says rather dismissively and Puck winces at the use of his nickname. The entire time he's known Berry she's only ever brought that shit out when she's majorly pissed. Rachel doesn't try to look at him but instead centers her focus on Quinn, whose lips are trembling. Puck shifts warily, looks from one woman to another. Suddenly Quinn's blubbering and apologizing, clinging to a surprised Rachel who kind of softens and rubs small circles into Quinn's back. The one good thing about this is that Rachel's not cosying up to Rutherford anymore. Puck swallows as the beginnings of an _I'm sorry _linger on the tip of his tongue.

He isn't quite sure whether now is exactly the best time to try and make good on what went down last night. Puck had gone home to his dark and empty apartment, wishing he had brought the entire six-pack with him instead of one measly can of beer. The anger, disgust and remorse – the potent mix had warred inside him. He'd tried to sleep but hadn't had much luck. Every time he closed his eyes he kept seeing a broken Rachel Berry swimming behind his lids. He'd given up around three in the morning, instead sitting down and pouring whatever he felt into words.

Rachel meets his eyes and Puck thinks back to high school, when she had told everyone she was kind of psychic. He'd thought she was just being…well, _Berry _but now that they're both staring at each other, Puck wonders what a world would be like if Rachel Berry could read your mind.

It kind of terrifies him.

But right now, all he can think is that he _really _wishes he could talk to Rachel. Perhaps it isn't the best time though because she's pretty much just fainted in his arms an hour or so ago. Berry kind of nods her head at him and steps to the side, gently depositing Quinn into Matt's hesitant arms. The dancer looks faintly alarmed and Puck tamps down the urge to laugh, because Quinn would probably castrate him or something for ridiculing her moment of weakness. The two of them start towards the exit and Puck hovers a few feet away from Rachel, something stuck in the back of his throat. Rachel's toying with the hem of her loose white shirt and Puck takes a moment to admire the way the material makes her skin look kind of tan.

'Thank you for your assistance,' Rachel says formally and Puck balls his fist inside the pocket of his jeans.

'Yeah well. It wasn't like I was going to let you drop unconscious onto the floor or something,' Puck mutters in response. She had said _Good_ when she had realized he was in front of her, and not Jeremy.

'Nonetheless-'

'Look Berry, I'm sorry okay?' Puck interjects, sounding harried. He's desperate for Rachel not to hate him, to resent him or some shit like that. 'Last night was a dick move and I'm an asshole.'

He's sincere and perhaps she notices that because she flashes him a tight smile, sighs a little delicately. Puck's reminded of how small she is, how very slight. It's hard to see that sometimes because Rachel's always been larger than life, with her voice and her can do attitude. Puck finds it strange that the things that had made him want to light himself on fire he kind of admires now, because it shows that Rachel's always been sure of who she was even back when he was just some fucked up kid from Lima who couldn't find his way.

'Well I suppose I'm partly to blame-'

Puck looks at her like she's gone insane. 'Shut the fuck up Berry. You weren't the one who stuck his foot so far down his throat, he'll probably be shitting leather.'

'As always Noah, your eloquence astounds me,' Rachel remarks dryly, Puck's heart lifting when he hears his first name. She sucks in her cheeks. 'I'm not angry with you, not really. I should have expected with your stubborn nature that you would…well nevertheless it doesn't matter. You have what you need to know now.' The last bit is kind of bitter.

He wants to tell her that if he'd known that this was what lurking behind the door, he'd rather it had stayed shut.

'I'm sorry,' he feels like it bears repeating. Rachel gives him a wry upward turn of the lips and Puck doesn't understand what that means. Does it mean she's forgiven him? Does it mean he's allowed to talk to her about what's made her the way she is now?

He feels something warm on his arm and sees Rachel's hand curled around his arm. It's nice, he thinks. She exerts the barest hint of pressure and Puck kind of just stands there, not sure what the fuck he's supposed to do now. Thankfully Rachel saves him, not for the first time.

'If you don't mind, I'm sure Matthew is worried about me. And I would really like to go home,' she says the last word with a kind of tentative wonder. Puck gives in and covers her hand with his own. There is something that stings and Rachel looks fairly startled, abruptly taking her hand away as Puck allows his to fall to the side. When they come out Quinn's composed herself and Matt's awkwardly patting her shoulder.

'You ready Elle?' Matt asks and Rachel nods, giving both Quinn and Puck a heavy wave before following Matt out into the afternoon sun. They watch as the light paints Rachel's face, highlights the fatigue so clear on her face that Puck wonders how he's missed it.

'I miss the old Rachel. You know, the one who would whip out those crazy pie charts and give us folders with those detailed notes on how we could improve our vocal range?' Quinn whispers kind of brokenly. 'This Rachel…she _scares_ me.'

'Come on, I'll take you home,' Puck answers because he can't help but agree.

**Follow me over at LJ – aswordsworth(dot)livejournal(dot)com =)**


	8. Chapter 8

'So what happened?'

It's the question Rachel's been dreading since the moment Matt picked her up from the GP. While normally a quiet person, Rachel had found herself enjoying a side of Matt that he rarely showed unless he considered you worthy. She had been there when Santana had broken his heart, clapped alongside everyone when he had walked across that stage and received his high school diploma and then college degree. Mike and him had been an integral part of her life since she was seventeen, a steady presence that she had always been able to fall back on no matter the burden.

She remembers the day they had both conferenced her in, mentioned something about opening a dance studio. The fear in their voices had been comical. Rachel had informed them in no uncertain terms that their talents were too wasted on being backup dancers. They deserved to be the next Will Schuester, the kind of teacher who would inspire you to be all you could be no matter the obstacles placed in your path. She was glad they had taken her advice, emailing her every step of the way as they got the studio off the ground.

'Rachel?'

She shakes her head, leans back in the sofa. Matt's absently thumbing a sweating can of soda in his hand, his gaze shifting from her to the television every so often. Their knees brush against one another and Rachel closes her eyes, feels her throat close up slightly when she realizes that two inches to the left is where she'd fainted into Noah Puckerman's arms.

'It's nothing,' she tries to brush off.

'**Rachel, I know you think you can handle this by yourself…but sweetie, this is something you need help with,' Angela tells her. Rachel looks at the expression on her face, sees the pity reflected back there.**

**Quinn had had the very same one.**

'**I'm **_**fine **_**Angie,' Rachel retorts.**

'**I've known you since college Berry. I've seen you lose it over a script. I've seen you so happy you looked delirious,' Angela continues. Rachel fixes her head to the side, refusing to acknowledge what her friend is implying. 'And you've been anything but happy this past year since Jeremy died.'**

**Rachel winces at the cold, hard truth. **

'**I know. And I **_**want **_**to talk about it. But I just **_**can't**_** okay?'**

**Angela covers her hand with her own, and Rachel desperately wishes she was anywhere but inside that small room.**

'Angela said-'

'Angela isn't the one who lost the man she loves, alright Matthew?' Rachel bites out abruptly and Matt blinks at her, looking at her like she's a caged animal.

'I know you miss him Rachel, but it's been a year,' Matt starts and Rachel chews down on her tongue, feels something metallic coat the inside of her mouth.

'You think a year makes everything okay?' Rachel whispers, her fingers reaching for the rings around her neck. Matt catches the movement.

'No,' he shakes his head, sucks in a breath. 'No I don't. I know how much you loved him-'

'I still do,' she reiterates stubbornly.

'-but he's _gone _Elle. He's not coming back. And it's _killing _us to see you try to hold onto something that's never going to be a probability!'

Rachel feels the anger come back, that residual burn at the pit of her stomach that Quinn had fanned before. Matt was supposed to understand, was supposed to know that this was always going to be tough.

'I moved down here because I thought you understood that I needed just to escape,' she says slowly and Matt looks contrite.

'And I _do_. God,' Matt responds, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. 'But this isn't an escape Rachel. This is you trying to ignore the real reason you're even here in the first place.'

'I'm not going to date other guys to make you and Mike feel better,' Rachel shoots back, darts up off the couch and heads towards the window. The people moving on the sidewalk continue on oblivious.

'We're not asking you to do that. But…you spent six months locked up in London, just…_existing_. And then all of a sudden you tell us you want to teach. But these kids aren't going to make you feel better about anything Rachel. Sure they'll help you forget but after they go home, you're just going to go back to your office and look at the picture Jeremy took of you,' Matt tells her in one big breath.

Rachel clenches her fists, knows that he is right. She hasn't been very good at sharing her emotions, ironic as it sounds. In high school she had been more than happy to tell anyone who would listen how she felt, almost always through song. But then she'd gotten older, realized how people didn't seem to really care out in the real world. Perhaps it was a cynical outlook on life, but Jeremy hadn't ever been bothered by her glass half-empty approach. He had always been so full of wonder at the world, she recalls, always doing something that would help capture that beauty in a tangible form.

'I just _miss_ him Matt,' she says. Her voice is soft and she hates the way it sounds vulnerable because she never wants to be _that girl_, the one everyone looks at and pities because they know there is something just wrong with her that demands sympathy.

There is a warm touch at her shoulders and Rachel feels herself tense automatically in response. Jeremy's hands had been a bit cold but after a while they had been anything but. He would trace patterns onto her skin, press a kiss into her temple whenever she would laugh and tell him that he was cold-blooded.

'Cold blood means a warm heart,' he'd always say and she would smile. He had always been smiling, _always_. They had never been forced, or faked, or anything but genuine.

At least that was what she had thought.

'It's my fault he's gone,' she finally admits and this time her words do break, shatter like that fragile piece of glass inside her chest holding her heart upright. The fragments splinter and lodge inside, making each breath painful.

'No Elle, it isn't,' Matt tells her firmly and Rachel so desperately wants to believe him.

'I should have _known _that there was something wrong,' she gasps out and Matt's tugging her into his arms, presses her cheek against his chest. She scrabbles at his shirt, not even bothering to push away because she doesn't think she can stand upright on her own in any case.

Matt is whispering that she's wrong, that it isn't her fault at all.

Rachel simply burrows her face into Matt's chest, lets the tears fall down. It's like a waterfall, an avalanche of emotion.

A landslide that threatens to engulf what little sanity she has left.

'I should have known,' she mumbles into him and Matt tenses all over.

But Rachel's already too far gone in her little world, too wrapped up in the guilt that's been eating away at her since that phone call that's turned her life inside out. And what's been hovering at the edge makes itself known, what Angela was probably thinking.

What _everyone _is probably thinking as well.

'I _killed _him,' Rachel says out loud.

And knows she will always hate herself for it.

**a/n: **

**sorry for the slow updates! I will try my best to not go so long again but it's my last semester of law school so I beg forgiveness.**

**Also, anyone interested in reading some Lily/Scotty if I write it? I'm just thoroughly unsatisfied by the way the series was wrapped up. WHERE was the final consummation of the flaming UST that has plagued these two smokin' individuals? Could they have AT LEAST given me that? I'm going to go watch 'The Road' now and be all shippy.**


	9. Chapter 9

Rachel tells herself that throwing herself back into work isn't falling back on old habits. Work wasn't simply the way Matt thinks it is. Sure these kids are a distraction, but they're so much more than that. These teenagers reminded her of herself back in high school, so eager and naïve and just waiting to dip their feet in untested waters.

She smiles briefly at the boy who had just sung his audition piece, wondered what made him want to be the person who he thinks he wants to become. Is it for himself? Maybe for his parents, to make them proud? Was it too much to hope that he used gold stars as a metaphor too?

'God, how many more of these do we have today?' Puck mumbles beside her and Rachel shoots him a sharp look.

'Really Noah, you could at least pretend that you're vaguely interested in this process,' she says through the side of her mouth.

'Okay, that kid David wasn't half bad. Dude reworked that Mariah Carey song into something that didn't make my fucking ears bleed,' Puck admits grudgingly. 'But _shit_, most of these guys should just invest in autotune.'

Rachel opens her mouth but stops when Puck fixes her with a raised eyebrow.

'And don't even pretend you aren't thinking the same thing. You're getting that twitch over your right eyebrow the same way you did back in the day when someone screwed up a note and you were _dying _to lay into them.'

She can't help but gape at him a little, remembering the words she had spoken to him before filming that disastrous _Run Joey Run _video.

'Regardless, we are here as _professionals_,' Rachel recovers and neatly puts a star in the top corner of David's application. She had seen enough potential for him to be put in the consideration pile. Glancing at the thin stack, and then the rather more weighty rejection pile, Rachel wonders if they will ever get enough talent for her to nurture.

_I killed him._

Her own words knife through her and Rachel pushes them away, the same way she's been doing since she uttered them to Matt a few days ago. Quinn's been calling often but Rachel's been too much of a coward to answer any of her voicemails. She can hear the forced casualness buried in Quinn's voice and a part of her wants to tell her that she's fine, she's okay. But that would be a lie and Rachel's sick of lying about how she is. So she's taking the coward's way out and just ignoring a good friend whose only crime was to care about her.

'Berry? Hello?' Puck's sharp tap on the shoulder makes her blink.

'What?' It comes out more harsh than she means it to be but Puck doesn't seem to be offended.

'Just saying its chow time. Let's go,' Puck says, slapping his hands together and rubbing them together eagerly in anticipation. 'And don't even think about punking out Berry. I had to sit through your fucking powerpoint presentation last night-'

'Which you interrupted incessantly with crude and vulgar comments,' Rachel reminds him.

'-so the least you can do is buy me something deep fried. C'mon. There's this place in Brooklyn I've been wanting to try,' Puck responds, continuing on as if she hadn't said anything. Rachel wants to resist but eventually decides that another lunch hour cooped up in her office, with Jeremy's picture staring back at her like a condemnation…well, it doesn't sound at all appealing.

She gets into the car, allows Puck to drive them over to Brooklyn. She watches absently at a woman walking alongside a man, notices the way their shoulders brush against each other with every step they took. They aren't holding hands. Perhaps two people infatuated with each other, unsure if the other felt the same way? For a moment she saw a small brunette in a military grey pea coat and a tall man with a camera slung around his neck. She blinked and they were gone.

It was only when the car coasted to a stop did she realize where they were.

'The Chip Shop?' She murmurs, spots the Union Jack fluttering proudly outside. Her chest squeezes.

'I thought you'd like a little piece of London. Make you remember the good times,' Puck announces, sounding unsure of himself. He's rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding her gaze like the plague. Rachel feels her features soften and she gives him a small smile, reaches out and squeezes his fingers quickly before walking ahead.

Puck hasn't been walking on eggshells around her as much as the others. The first time she had seen him after the incident (as she likes to call it in her head) he'd been noticeably more careful. She'd hated it, could see that he was still carrying around a bit of guilt, blaming himself. A part of her did want to find fault with him, but the larger part knew that it wasn't productive to blame everyone but herself.

She sighed through her nose and Puck watches her cautiously, seeing the smile before dimming. He had contemplated choosing somewhere else but _something _had gone between Rutherford and her after the GP. Puck wasn't as dumb as people thought he was. He noticed shit. Like the way Mike and Matt were suddenly clucking around her like mother hens, the way Rachel seemed to brush off their concern like it was nothing. Puck normally would have asked what was up, but considering the last time he'd opened his mouth…well he wasn't going for another epic fail again.

But shit, it kind of sucks seeing Rachel moping around. Quinn was right. This new Rachel scared him simply because it was like she only had enough energy to _pretend _to be herself. Puck didn't consider himself an expert on Rachel Berry. Far from it. Sure they'd hooked up for a week back in the good ol' days. Yeah, okay, he'd picked glee over football for her. But other than that they had always just kind of co-existed, like two boats passing each other by but never really getting close enough to breach the hull. Plus there was the fact that Puck knew jack about her life down in the Big Apple, or her time in London with Jeremy.

He catches sight of the necklace as she bends slightly to slide into the booth opposite him, sees the light reflect off the rings swinging together. He wants to stare at it a little longer when he sees script etched along the inside of the bands, but Rachel's blocked them from his view by opening up the menu.

Puck thinks about saying something about the rings but then decides to keep lunch light-hearted and angst-free.

'Noah, this is a heart attack on a plate!' Rachel hisses through her teeth after a moment, forcing a half-smile when the guy with the pierced ears looks their way.

'Look they have like salad and shit. I remember you don't eat anything with a face.'

'I decided a few years ago to incorporate meat into my diet,' Rachel guiltily admits.

'Really?' Puck looks like he doesn't believe her.

'Well I was on limited funds and the circumstances were dire.'

'Dude, you thought it tasted like fucking heaven didn't you?'

'I believe I'll try the Wild Mushroom Mac,' Rachel doesn't answer his question and Puck smirks.

'You have to have something deep fried.'

'Absolutely not. Do you have any idea what that would do to my vocal cords?'

'Your on a fucking sabbatical,' Puck points out dryly. 'The only reason you're going to make my ears bleed is when you're telling those kids that they suck.'

'Why would I have to when you so eloquently cut down their dreams yourself?' Rachel shot back. 'You didn't have to make that girl cry.'

'Girl made cats jumping off the Empire State Building sound stellar. I'm not going to coddle them unless I know their worth my time.'

'Really Noah-'

'Okay new rule,' Puck interrupts, twirling his finger around as Rachel snaps her jaw shut. 'No shop talk outside of the studio. If I'm going to tolerate you, that's the only way I'm going to do it,' he says gruffly and misses the way Rachel's eyes crinkle at the corners.

'And also you're already smokin' hot. Having a fried candy bar won't make me want to look at your ass any less,' Puck leered and spots the twin blooms of colour on her cheeks that Rachel doesn't want him too.

After they had put in their order – with Rachel relinquishing and getting a deep fried plate of Reese Pieces – Puck drums his fingers against the table as Rachel sweeps her gaze around the quaint English shop.

'You know this almost reminds me of home,' she finally says and Puck swallows at the last word.

'Yeah?'

'Don't get me wrong. I absolutely detested the cold at first. But we were both just so happy you know?' She steals a quick look at him before focusing on the framed vinyl record hung up on the wall.

'So you met Jeremy there?' The question is out before he can stop himself, and he waits to see if Rachel will explode, keel over or burst into tears. She does neither, a soft weary smile tugging at her lips as she twists the paper napkin holding the cutlery.

'I met him fresh out of Julliard. I was at a party and barely spoke to him but he got my number off a mutual friend. He was very persistent.' A whimsical expression comes over her face. 'When I got the offer to star in London, I took it and Jeremy followed. He liked capturing moments, history, and he said there was no better place to go than Europe.'

So the photograph on her desk was taken by Jeremy then.

'He must have really loved you then,' Puck ventures and Rachel stiffens and stops playing with the napkin, smoothes the corner over.

'Just not enough,' she answers and it's practically an open invitation.

The food comes just before he can walk through that door, though, and soon Rachel is describing the light and shine of being on stage. All Puck can do is listen to her, because right now? There's some of the old Rachel coming back.


	10. QLD Flood Appeal Fic Auction

Hey guys!

I live in Brisbane and if you've seen the news recently, an area the size of France and Germany combined has now been declared a disaster zone. I've decided to sign up to a fic auction that raises funds for the Queensland Relief Fund so if you're interested in bidding, please head over to and make a bid for me (look for aswordsworth or alien09)!

waltzmatildah(dot)livejournal(dot)com(forwardslash)67134(dot)html?view=1419070#t1419070

I'm taking requests for Puckleberry for Glee; Tyler/Caroline for Vampire Diaries and Chlollie for Smallville.

If you guys could spread the word, would be much appreciated!


	11. Chapter 11

Music has always been her refuge. Rachel cannot recall a time when she hasn't been able to escape into the words of a song, let the notes sink into her skin and her voice release everything she's been feeling inside. Even after Jeremy had died she would stay up late, curled in bed, listening to people sing about loss, love and everything else in between. Sometimes it would make her chest hurt and others it would soothe the ache that still resided deep inside, occasionally coming out like when Quinn and Finn had come over the other night.

It's been a few months since Puck had taken her to that grossly unhealthy restaurant for lunch. She recalls sitting there, talking about Jeremy, and feeling for the first time like someone hadn't taken a sledgehammer to her body. It had felt vaguely nice, she thinks, speaking about a man who has left his mark on her soul, on everything she's ever considered good about herself.

Everyone's stopped walking on eggshells around her, looking at her like she just might split open at the seams. Mike and Matt still often exchange concerned glances when they think she isn't looking, and Quinn still feels guilty because Rachel hasn't received so many baked goods in her life. Finn smiles and ruffles her hair, asks her how her day has been and tells her about the boys he's taken under his wing – a bit too cautious at times but overall becoming the friend she's always had since leaving McKinley. Mercedes and Kurt have flittered back into her life and Rachel's enjoyed hanging out at their studio, laughing seeing the two of them and Quinn collide over what cut that fabulous new coat should be. Santana came to visit once, which had been slightly awkward. But the Latina's mellowed some since her teenage years and Rachel still smiles wickedly over the careless girls night of alcohol Santana had coerced Quinn, Kurt, Mercedes and herself into.

Then there was Puck, Rachel muses, plucking absently at the keys of the piano. The two of them had slipped into a nice routine of bickering and maybe the occasional bouts of flirting, all the while nurturing the talent that they have managed to unearth. Recalling the high G Lea had hit the day before, Rachel smiles thinking of her young protégé. Lea reminded her too much of herself so it was no wonder she's taken such a strong liking to the teen. Puck says Lea's a teacher's pet and how it damages group morale, which had sparked a discussion over coffee at Starbucks.

She frowns when she thinks of that day, how Santana had leaned over and asked what was up with the unresolved sexual tension.

'It's not like that. Noah and I are just friends,' Rachel tells her, taking a sip of her latte. She watches Puck over the rim of her cup, feels her fingers tighten when he says something to the cute blonde behind the counter that has her smiling and twirling her fingers through her curls.

'Yeah. And I'm a fucking nun,' Santana retorts dryly and Rachel huffs, grateful when Puck starts to make his way back. Santana had thankfully dropped the subject but Rachel had seen her smirk whenever she so much as spoke with Puck.

'I _don't _have feelings for him,' Rachel tells herself. Her voice echoes in the empty room and it sounds nice and loud, final. 'I do not.'

_Then why do you keep thinking about how attractive he is? How nice his touch feels?_

Rachel stares down at the ivory keys, not knowing what to say. Even thinking it feels like she's betrayed Jeremy somehow, that he's looking at her from somewhere and shaking his head because she's just proved him right somehow. It's entirely irrational and not at all normal, but Rachel can't help how she feels. The guilt that comes up whenever she even considers moving on is what holds her back and it makes her both angry and sad at the same time.

_I know how much you loved him but he's__gone__Elle. He's not coming back. And it's__killing__us to see you try to hold onto something that's never going to be a probability!_

Matt's words keep playing back in her head and a part of her knows he's right.

Maybe it's the fact that she's been in New York these past few months instead of hiding in London, but being back in the place Jeremy had always considered his home has been comforting. It's also a curse though because everywhere she looks around she can see places they've been together, shared together.

She walks through Central Park most days when she can, passes the place where they had had their first date. A picnic under the stars. He had brought this worn plaid blanket they had kept thrown over their living room couch afterwards and Rachel recalls the caress of his fingers between her own, the way he had tipped her head back and sampled her lips so gently.

The clock mounted on the wall ticks over and the rhythmic ticking fills her head as she pushes past the thoughts spiraling inside.

_Is it wrong that I want to move on?_

It strikes her, makes her worry her bottom lip. That's the entire crux of the matter isn't it? How long does she have to wait before she can move on? Is it even right that she _wants _to move on? It's confusing and makes her want to break something.

'It's midnight,' she breathes when the clock chimes. Her hands shake slightly as she reaches for the rings around her neck, her thumb tracing the writing engraved into the metal.

_We were one tree not two_.

It was a part of a quote from Captain Corelli's Mandolin that Rachel is still fixated on. The words spoke of love in a way no one else had ever done, reminded her of the way Jeremy made her heart skip a beat even after. It spoke of how love was something different from being in love. It was the feeling left over after the butterflies in your stomach had ceased flight, or when the giddiness of eternal passion had faded away. It was the breath against her neck when she was asleep, the way he would make sure her tea was always made whenever she got home, the times he would play with her hair while they were watching a movie. Small, mundane things that so many took for granted but which Rachel had always, will always, cherish.

It's Jeremy's anniversary today. Two years since the day she had come home and seen the flashes of red and blue light surrounding their building. She recalls brushing by the police officers, seeing her neighbour point at her while talking to a police officer. The ice slide down her spine as the officer heads towards her, doffs his hat. The black body bag, the blood, the 'I sorry Ma'am but is your fiancée Jeremy Green?'

The world blurs around her a little and Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, lets the tears fall. There's no one around to witness her crumble. She's done it far too much since that day and she just wants to stop falling apart. More than anything she wants to fix the pieces back together so she can be _normal_. Happy.

The envelope she's carried around all day lies at her elbow and she trembles opening the flap, shakes as she unfolds the creased white paper Jeremy had etched his last words on.

_Rachel, _

_In the time since we've met, you've taught me that love is both an art and a fortunate accident. Please know that I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm doing this because I have to. You will never understand. I don't think anyone will. But sometimes love isn't enough. It pains me to say this but you've always told me to tell you the truth. _

_I'll watch over you. Just like a star._

_J._

Anger boils up inside, like a dormant volcano that's been waiting to erupt. This is the first time she's seen his last words in two years. Yes there is pain and hurt, but now there's also the acknowledgment that if he had loved her as much as he said he did, he wouldn't have jumped out the window.

'You would have stayed with me,' she tells the letter harshly, almost rips it in two. She hates herself for feeling this way.

'God, what is _wrong _with me?' Rachel asks and doesn't receive an answer. She's thankful that Mike and Matt have given her space, known that she would need time to herself. Because right now she's conflicted and needs to figure something out. It feels like a turning point, much like her lunch with Puck.

_Puck's arm at the back of her neck when they go out to that little bistro next to the studio with Mike and Matt. Puck's shoulder brushing against hers as they map out lesson plans. Puck smiling broadly whenever she lets herself laugh freely._

'I just need to sing it out,' she murmurs to herself, already placing both hands on the piano keys and tracing out the familiar melody that had played almost on repeat the weeks after Jeremy's death.

**And when it rains,****  
****On this side of town it touches, everything.****  
****Just say it again and mean it.****  
****We don't miss a thing.****  
****You made yourself a bed****  
****At the bottom of the blackest hole (blackest hole)****  
****And convinced yourself that****  
****It's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore******

**And no, oh, how could you do it?****  
****Oh I, I never saw it coming.****  
****No, oh, I need the ending.****  
****So why can't you stay****  
****Just long enough to explain?******

**And when it rains,****  
****Will you always find an escape?****  
****Just running away,****  
****From all of the ones who love you,****  
****From everything.****  
****You made yourself a bed****  
****At the bottom of the blackest hole (blackest hole)****  
****And you'll sleep 'til May****  
****And you'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore******

**And no, oh, how could you do it?****  
****Oh I, I never saw it coming.****  
****And no, oh, I need the ending.****  
****So why can't you stay just long enough to explain?******

**Take your time.****  
****Take my time…**

At the end of the song she takes in a shuddering breath, reaches for the clasp of her necklace. The rings feel heavy in her palm, her neck conspicuously lighter.

'I'll always love you,' she says before pressing the rings to her lips, giving it an almost reverent kiss before placing it inside the envelope along with the letter.

'Shit, there's the Rachel Berry I've been looking for,' she remembered Puck telling her one day out of the blue a few weeks ago. The comment had puzzled her and Puck had brushed it off as nothing.

Looking at the closed envelope though, she can't help but wonder whether this was the moment she's decided that Rachel Berry needs to be found. She's spent so much time lost that it might be hard, she thinks.

_Just like a star…_

Rachel swallows, wonders if Jeremy had left that phrase there on purpose. She casts her eyes up, closes them as if she's seeking a blessing.

It's later when she's in bed that she receives her answer. She's on her side and suddenly feels what she swears is a kiss on her forehead. It's so real that it startles her awake, sleep evading her until she can see the beginnings of first light spill through.

When Rachel gets ready the next afternoon, she doesn't put on the necklace.

She thinks that's a start.


End file.
